Disclaimer: Don't own Merlin.
Warnings: Angsty angst
A/N: Thank you so much to Aerist, FrancesGamble-too, lovePEOPLEandCOWBOY, Sarrasponda, wholocked12, bubzchoc, helenealbra, grayember13, mersan123, and LaRiEnGuBlEr for your brilliant reviews, I'm super grateful!
Okay, in the interest of full disclosure, this chapter is not amazing. For some reason it was really difficult to write, which is why it's so delayed, but I think unfortunately this is the best it's gonna get. I want to make every chapter really good for you guys and for some reason I just couldn't get it how I wanted it this time, so I apologise.
However, the bright spot in all my shilly shallying is that I've written all of the next chapter and half of the final one while I was messing with this one, so expect those soon!
~III~
Sap sunk
at eighteen, he's been old
for too long, always cold
in his matt blacks, always
in some kind of mourning.
Of all the new words that Arthur has learnt lately, the one that sticks in his head is 'lanugo'. It seems weirdly exotic; perhaps because it sounds a little like lagoon. But it also makes him think of all the technical terms he learnt in English language – anapaest, trochee, dactyl. Lanugo sounds poetic, like it refers to something not quite tangible, something vague and romantic.
It's not, of course. It's the medical term for the soft downy hair that babies are sometimes born with. And also the softy downy hair that grows on the body of anorexics to compensate for the lack of fat keeping them warm.
Arthur's head is full of new words like hypokalaemia and amenorrhea and osteopenia. Words that tie up the tongue, words that look impossibly alien when written down, words with Greek and Latin roots that seem to belong to another time altogether. He cannot square them with the here and now; with the disease that is slowly breaking his friend down into little pieces.
Even 'anorexia' itself sounds wrong. Arthur looked up the Greek meaning and found that 'an' means without and 'orexis' means appetite. So anorexia is simply 'without appetite'. It's such an underwhelming phrase for such a terrifying ailment. 'Without appetite' seems gentle, harmless; something you might say when turning down that extra biscuit or bag of crisps. It does not equate with the horror of a person being eaten from the inside out. Arthur cannot reconcile the elegance of these words with the ugliness of their meanings. He's angry and he's got no-one to be angry with so he's going to be angry with these words that disguise their true definitions, that whitewash the cruelty they represent.
It is cruelty, he decides. It's a malicious disease, a vindictive and petty virus that latches onto a person and sucks the life out of them. And Arthur can't bear the fact that it's incorporeal; that he cannot fight it face to face, or overpower it with reason and logic. The fury inside him has nowhere to go; no way to get its revenge on this malevolent succubus that feeds on his friend. So it just sits in his stomach, churning him up inside.
He no longer believes Hunith's promise that Merlin is on the mend. He can see for himself that Merlin's getting worse, not better. No matter how baggy his long sleeved shirts, Arthur can still see the thinness of the papery wrists that poke through, still see the hollow grooves in Merlin's cheeks as he trudges from class to class with the shuffling gait of an old man.
Whatever treatment Hunith has arranged for him, it's not working. It no longer even feels like Merlin's ignoring him, now it's more like he can't hear or comprehend what Arthur says to him anyway. When teachers or other students ask him a question, Merlin just stares blankly, and gives a slight shake of his head, as though his ears are full of treacle. Arthur's convinced there are times when Merlin is completely unaware of what's going on around him. And whenever he sits next to him in the library, he notices that Merlin's revision notes are sparse and nonsensical, confirming Arthur's suspicion that he can't concentrate on what he's reading either.
It's near impossible now for Arthur to carry on the façade of chatting to Merlin like nothing's wrong. He feels exhausted, both physically and mentally, and his stomach is clenched with worry every time he looks at his friend. The silences he lapses into are longer nowadays, but again he doubts that Merlin even notices.
His other friends are trying their best to help; they know something's wrong with Merlin, even if they don't know what it is. Gwaine and Freya have put it down to exam stress (and, he suspects, the pressure of secretly liking Arthur). Lance is more circumspect on his opinions, but he often checks up on Merlin and sits with him in the library when Arthur has class.
Gwen has asked once or twice if Arthur feels he can tell her yet, and although he keeps saying no, his resolve is weakening. He's so tired of handling this all on his own; so tired of living in a constant whirl of anxiety and fear. He's got no-one to talk to; he can't tell Uther or Morgana or any of his friends, and so he has to do it all by himself. The next time Gwen asks, Arthur wonders if it all might just come out. If he had Gwen to talk to about it; calm, rational, caring Gwen, he might feel a lot better. But in doing so he'd be betraying Merlin, and Arthur's not sure he could ever be forgiven for that.
So he keeps it to himself. But he knows he's nearing breaking point himself; the strain of worrying about Merlin feels like a weight slowly pushing him into the ground.
He needs to talk to Hunith again. Privately this time, and ask her not to tell Merlin. But she needs to know that Merlin isn't improving, that the help he's getting isn't enough. That he needs a different kind of support before… before something really bad happens.
~III~
With all the stress of his life, football seems like the closest thing he gets to relaxing nowadays. This week's practice was no exception. He'd had to focus on the game, to put all his energy towards winning, and it knocked every other thought out of his head. It was good to get a break.
He's barely listening in the changing rooms after as Gwaine goes on about some insane sexting mishap he'd had with Elena last night. But then he brings up the whole gay porn thing again and Arthur ducks his head, blushing, as though Gwaine might read his guilty secret all over his face.
He's been trying hard not to think of that night (the 'disaster night', as he refers to it in his head) and worry for Merlin's health has been at the forefront of his mind since then, as opposed to further consideration of his feelings.
Thinking about it now, he's no closer to an answer. He tries to shut Gwaine down, but his friend is nothing if not persistent.
"Fine, whatever. So you got any other ways to figure out the whole Merlin thing?"
Arthur gives an honest answer for once, which is that he genuinely doesn't know. And Gwaine's response to that is irritatingly reasonable: talk to Merlin.
It's not as though he hasn't thought about that option; has even run the conversation through his head a few times. In the fantasy though, Merlin actually talks back; which may be overly optimistic considering the current state of relations between them.
But how would he even bring the topic up? He voices his frustration to Gwaine.
"Oh yeah, and how's that conversation gonna go? 'Hi Merlin, heard you've been in love with me since forever, how's that working out for you?'"
Gwaine laughs.
"Maybe something a bit more subtle, mate. I'm not saying you should-"
Gwaine breaks off in mid-sentence as a crashing noise resounds from outside. He pulls a confused face at Arthur, who shrugs and walks to the door. He sticks his head out to see the cause and for a moment he doesn't understand. The bench is on the floor and there's a dark haired figure breaking into a run. Then he realises that the dark haired figure is Merlin. Merlin who must have been sat on the bench. Merlin who must have knocked the bench over when he stood up suddenly. Merlin who must have stood up suddenly because… because he was sat under the open window and could hear everything they were saying.
Panic tears at Arthur's heart and he starts to run, ignoring the fact that his shirt is unbuttoned, and he's not wearing any shoes.
He's shouting Merlin's name frantically but Merlin doesn't look back even for a second. He's gaining on Merlin, because he's the fastest runner in the whole football team even with bare feet and Merlin currently barely has the strength to walk anywhere. But he trips suddenly on an uneven patch of grass and his ankle twists painfully as he falls. He struggles to his feet but his ankle won't take the weight when he tries to sprint again. Arthur hobbles on regardless but Merlin's reached the edge of the field now, and he crosses the road and disappears from view.
Arthur sinks down in the grass, defeated, breath coming in short gasps. He hears footsteps and Gwaine runs up behind him.
"Was that Merlin?" Gwaine says, stricken. "Did he hear?"
Arthur only has the energy to nod.
~III~
He rings Merlin repeatedly over the next two hours but he never picks up. The last time he calls, the phone's been switched off. It's then that Arthur knows he has to go round to Merlin's house, to talk to him face to face. He sets off straight away, trying desperately to think of what to say.
He should tell the truth but the truth is problematic. If he tells Merlin that their friends told him, Merlin will be angry at them. But he's not sure Merlin will believe it if he says he's just guessed on his own. His years of obliviousness don't exactly lend that story credence.
Also, even if Merlin believes him, what does he say next? It's do or die time regarding his feelings for Merlin and Arthur's still at a total loss for an answer. And the stakes seem impossibly high whatever he decides. If he says yes, I don't know how I feel but I want to find out by making it work with you, then what? Merlin's still ill, it's not like he can just kiss him and make everything all better. He doubts Merlin is physically or emotionally stable enough to handle a relationship right now.
And if he says no, I don't feel the same way, then… Rejecting Merlin when he's so far from well seems impossibly cruel. It might just break him.
Arthur doesn't know and when he knocks on Merlin's door, he decides to leave it up to fate. Let the conversation unfurl as it will and maybe the answer will come to him.
But Merlin doesn't answer the door. And Arthur doesn't think that he's hiding, there's no lights on inside and he can hear no movement.
But if Merlin's not home, then where is he?
Just like that, Arthur is scared. On any other day he might not have reacted this way but he gets the sudden, sickening feeling that it's all come to a head somehow. Everything that's happened since he picked Merlin up and carried him to the nurse's office, right up till the conversation Merlin heard today. It's all led up to this, now, Merlin missing and Arthur banging uselessly on his door.
The weird sensation passes in a moment and Arthur gets practical. He calls Hunith immediately, determines she's still at the hospital and doesn't know where Merlin is. She says she spoke to him a couple of hours before, to remind him he had an appointment with the nutritionist. She hasn't heard from him since.
He tries not to panic her. There's a million and one places Merlin could be and he might arrive home at any moment. Hunith gets off the line so that she can try and call him herself; before she goes Arthur promises to ring round all their friends. But Merlin's not with Gwaine, or Freya, or Lance. When Arthur hears he's not with Gwen either, his stomach drops. Gwen senses his distress.
"This is about before, isn't it? About something being wrong with him?"
"Yes," Arthur half-whispers.
"And now you don't know where he is?"
There's a pause on the line.
"I'll be there in ten minutes. Let's go find him."
Arthur doesn't really register how grateful he is until Gwen appears in front of him and hugs him tight. He buries his face in her neck, overwhelmed by the sudden urge to sob because everything's gone completely beyond his control now and Merlin's in trouble, he can just feel it.
"It's okay, Arthur. We'll find him. He's probably on his way home right now."
Gwen looks determinedly positive, eyes bright.
"I thought I could go downtown and look there, and you could search the parks and gardens on the west side. Lance says he'll drive out to check the coach station, and I asked Elyan to park here and wait in case he comes home."
Arthur squeezes her hand in gratitude, not able to say how much it means that she's here and he doesn't have to do this on his own.
They part, agreeing to keep in contact by mobile and check in regularly. Arthur rings Hunith again to tell her but the line's engaged so he leaves a message. He sets out to St Andrew's fields first because Merlin likes to go walking there and it's possible he's taking a night-time stroll.
He tries not to think about the other possibilities, like Merlin collapsing in the field and lying there alone, getting colder and colder as the evening wears on…
He's letting his imagination run away with him. Merlin's barely been gone for three hours, it's far too early to assume the worst. And yet he can't get that strange, ominous feeling inside him to dissipate. It feels like something cold's trickling down the back of his neck, and there's a hard stone of dread in the pit of his stomach.
He types out a quick text to Merlin, even though he knows his phone is switched off.
'Where are you? Please come back home and let me explain everything'
An hour later he sends:
'Come home Merlin. We're all worried sick about you.'
Then, an hour later:
'Please come home. I love you.'
An hour after that, Arthur's phone rings. It's Hunith.
They've found Merlin.